


Hotline Noon

by lovehotelreservation



Series: There’s No Nutting in Lúcioball [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Relationships, Sexting, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7805119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehotelreservation/pseuds/lovehotelreservation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something undeniably wrong when not even the finest American whiskey can sate the thirst of McCree, or when the best Texas BBQ can’t appease his hunger. Though, what he thirsts and hungers for can’t be satisfied by food or drink, but by you, which in turn, leads to quite the interesting evening phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotline Noon

**Author's Note:**

> I’M ONTO U MERCER. CHROM, JOTARO, RYOMA, AND NOW MCCREE. I’M ONTO U GDI. HOW MANY MORE MARRIAGES MUST I TAKE ON
> 
> BUT ANYWAY~ ( ᐛ )و I hope you all enjoy!

With midnight only in a couple of hours, you knew that the phone call you received was from none other than McCree.

Fresh from your bath and in the midst of changing into your sleeping clothes, you weren't fazed when you realized that your phone was going off. Your expression turned from sleepily content to somewhat exasperated. With the sex ban imposed on all the Olympic athletes--with heavier scrutiny on those of Overwatch--you knew that McCree wasn't having the easiest time dealing with this.

As part of the Overwatch medical staff, you were _well_ acquainted with him, in that your relationship was a no-strings attached type, with heavy emphasis on physical intimacy. Though, in some way or another, he ended up lassoing you over to him while you were pulling on his metaphorical collar.

Not to say that such an object was foreign to your relationship in the bedroom, but that was for another time.

With the Olympic games well underway in Rio, you were to join everyone in Brazil, continuing to attend to any medical needs for the Heroes. While you were mainly tending to any injuries that occurred before, during, or after events, you were also prepping everyone before they took to the arenas. On this day, the track and football events were to occur, and you were making sure Lena's and Lúcio's legs were ready, massaging them in your designated room in the medical facility.

At the same time, McCree was loafing around your work space, given that he was to take part in the Summer Games tomorrow. It had been weeks since the two of you had slept together, given his training while you were running physicals for all the Heroes. His hand wasn't offering him even a sliver of relief--he even tried eating raw potatoes to get himself out of the mood--and he wasn't in the mood to hunt down a willing stranger. Only you could give him what he needed. The sex ban had kept him far too wound up, his shoulders tense and tight. When he popped into your work space, he happened to come across you giving Lúcio's legs a firm massage, which only brought out laughter from him as he found your touch to be ticklish.

Needless to say, he was jealous and even more irate that your touch was being administered on someone other than him. Though, he understood that you were just doing your job and Lúcio was only there to ensure that his body was in peak condition before his match. Regardless, he was even more than determined to have you run an emergency physical on his fingers, which he'd obviously need for his event tomorrow.

~~His eleventh one.~~

Though, while he was debating on whether to just ask you to diagnose whether he pulled a groin muscle or not, by the time you were finished with Lúcio, your immediate medical attention was needed by Jamison, whose last minute warm-up for the shot put event went wrong--or however bad it could get while involving a box of matches, glass marbles, and an Enya's greatest hits CD. You caught sight of McCree, realizing that he had been standing outside of your work space--and that he was looking far too on edge than his usual laidback appearance--though didn't get a chance to say anything more than "Oh-! Hey Jesse! I'll talk to you later!"

Alone. Agitated. Aroused.

Definitely not the combination that McCree ever wanted to experience at once, yet here he was.

Today ended up being a busy day for you overall, so you never did have the chance to see your lover from then on. Then, with Lena's gold medal win, you went to celebrate with her and the other Overwatch women over dinner and drinks. As much fun as you had, the bathtub in your hotel suite sounded more and more alluring, especially for your aching body.

While you were still feeling weary from your day, your bath allowed you to finally unwind and relax.

However, now with McCree calling you, there was an expectation of what he had to say.

After taking a deep breath, you reached for your phone. With McCree's name displaying on your screen--thus confirming your assumptions--you answered his call.

"Good evening, Jesse."

"Ohoho, how _good_ it **feels** to hear from you, darlin'. Though, I gotta correct you on something."

He sounded calm, but there was an underlying eagerness to his voice, like he was waiting with bated breath for you to pick up. At the very least, he didn't seem too on edge or irritated, which was a plus.

Curious at what he meant, you queried, "What is it?"

"It's not evening, but rather, it's hiiigh noon, honey."

Your exasperation deepened as you could visualize the wide, toothy grin spread over his lips. Was it really going to come to this, however confusing it was? "Jesse, it's only 10:03--"

The chuckle McCree let out was low and deep, a pleasant sound that you had missed a lot, especially when the two of you were tangled together in sheets and in each other's arms. "Allow me to show you the right time, sweetness."

There was some fumbling heard over the receiver, but soon enough, your phone buzzed once more. When you went to check why this was the case, you saw that you had a new text notification.

It was from McCree.

He sent you a photo.

Of his fully erect cock.

Which was standing up straight and tall with a broken clock behind it. With the lack of actual clock hands, sure enough, the time was "high noon."

You wanted to ask why he had a broken clock in the first place--and why he was using it as decoration for his nudes--but judging by its shattered appearance, it looked to have been used in his target practice.

Again, you could picture his expression, the proud and pleased smirk that was stretched over his features.

It was moments like this when you questioned the existence of your relationship with him.

You brought your phone back to your ear, sucking in through your teeth as you remarked, "Jesse, I swear to god--"

Laughing wickedly, he remarked, "Aww, come on, sweetness. Don't you see this mouth-waterin' all-you-can-eat buffet over here? I've got more meat than a 4th of July BBQ party in good ol' Texas--"

**"Jesse!"**

Your hand was covering your face, which was now flushed and red once more, albeit not due to your bath. Though, you had to say, the silliness of his nudes aside, you realized how much you missed being intimate with him. Still, the ban was being enforced by Overwatch officials, and you certainly didn't want to potentially cause a scandal, which could hurt the organization's reputation all while it was trying to restore its name.

His tone took on a more rugged, husky quality as he replied. "Do you see what I've been reduced to, honey? I'm losing my edge, my touch with how wound up I've been. I can't sleep, and you know that's gonna affect my aim tomorrow! I need your sweet, sweet lovin' over here right here and now!" He declared passionately, with the sound of his fist pounding down onto either a wall or a table.

"Jesse," you began your reasoning with a sigh, however amused you were, "you know how strict they're enforcing this ban. If we get caught together, and/or if you fall short tomorrow during your event, then--"

"Your lovin' will _ensure_ that I win gold tomorrow!" McCree urged before his voice became more strained, taking on a needier tone. "I'm beggin' you, honey. This darn ban's an in-fri-n-ge-men- **t** on my constitutional right!"

While not the first time you've had him beg you for intimacy, you don't ever recall him ever being this in need for you. A man of his calibre and notoriety harboring such intense desire that he was willing to bend the rules for your touch was as hard to take in as pleasing as it felt. Plus, knowing McCree, whenever he was especially tense, he tended to lose his cool, which was something that could not be afforded to happen tomorrow.

You were quiet in thought at first before you laughed softly to yourself, "Okay, okay, no need to be this dramatic, Jesse. If you're **really** this pent-up to the point that your own hand can't help you, then sure." A laugh escaped you from his relieved whoop of "Oh hallelujah, thank you Lord in heaven!" Continuing forward, you added, "Though, I don't know how we're going to do this. You're supposed to be on curfew, and I don't have clearance to the Olympic village unless I've been called for a legitimate emergency--"

"Darlin', I could sneak outta here in bright yellow Crocs if I wanted to. They'd notice Genji before they'd realize I'm gone," he spoke, his own exasperation replaced by undeniable confidence.

"I do sincerely hope you're right on that, Jesse," you minded him.

With another chuckle, he affirmed, "A good ol' romp will put me out faster than a warm glass of milk, honey. On behalf of the United States of America, I thank you for coming to aid me in my time of need."

"I'm sure America will be more upfront with its thanks if you bring home the gold."

"'When' you mean," he corrected cockily. "Alrighty, lemme get ready now. You best be prepared for yourself too, honey, 'cause I'm comin' for and _on_ that sweet ass of yours."

McCree laughed to himself over hearing your flustered reaction. And with that, your phone call came to an end and he was quick to ready himself to head out for this important work related matter.

Your arrangement together was meant to be no strings attached, but he couldn't help but wonder how nice it would be to thread things together between you both.


End file.
